showmethecakes Sun Jul 02, 2017 7:53 pm
Apologies for not writing a report last week. Garden jobs to do and Mrs W was not going to let them slip another week. Still, that hole I dug is about 6 feet long and 3 feet deep. It might just do......
Hors d'oeuvres
There is inevitably a wait on the sea front for the bunch to appear. Their arrival is normally preceded by a lone rider who has gone off the front. I was more than a little surprised to see Ivan on his own riding along the sea front towards me. Surely not. He can't have actually destroyed the field in a rage of power and speed and left them languishing behind. No. He'd woken up late and taken the more direct route to the sea front straight down the Locking Road.
Again, on a normal kind of Saturday I would be waiting a good 15 minutes or so for the bunch to arrive. Ivan and I only waited about 5 minutes before they came into view. I wonder why they were so much quicker this time? Mmmm.
Lofty misses a ride now and again due to a good night out on a Friday. Nine Pints misses a ride now again because he has had more than nine on a Friday night. I was starting to line up the excuses for a poor performance after two consecutive nights out. But I like to take a leaf out of Reg Harris's book and pretend to be one of the 'ard men of cycling.
Despite wanting to keep on the simmer at the back of the bunch I was already cooking on the A370. Thought I'd better turn the heat down a bit but ended up roasting it to Jeannie's bogs. R2D2 still wonders what I have for breakfast. All I'll say is that it's the food of champions, also known as owsianka. Translate that Mr Google!
Anyhow, I came off the gas through Brent Knoll and all the way to Woolavington, sitting comfortably at the back. Martin did his usual 50 metre sprint up Wooly Hill, followed by Ivan and Ade. I think Martin was cooked first, shortly followed by Ivan but Ade was keeping on the boil up the climb. Nick, R2 and myself closed him down before R2 and I left Nick behind and battled it out to the top. I held R2's wheel but my goose was cooked at the top and I settled for second place.
Ivan regained his KOM down that little hill into Bawdrip before we re-grouped at the bottom. After successive rides down Strada Biancha we all refused to do it a third time and instead headed down Route de Ricky. Bridger was surprisingly okay and we slipped through unscathed and out towards Four Forks. Always looking for material for his one-man shows, Mark thought there was some mileage in writing a sketch about Four Forks. It had little success unlike the memorable Four Candles sketch involving The Two Ronnies, Cray and Atkinson.
No mishaps on the run to the cafe and we settled down outside in glorious sunshine while Ivan sorted out the sweep stake. I always thought a sweep stake was the cheap one you got that had been dropped on the floor. Peppered? My arse. Those speckly bits are what stuck to it when they brushed it across the floor. Ivan promised to bring paper and pen. What a fibber. He still had to ask for some in the cafe. Never mind, I'm sure everything was written down carefully so there will be no disputes about who had which rider. Everyone duly paid their £1 to Steve in anticipation of another Froome win but you never know, a couple of wet days and he could be on his arse on the road. What's that? Froome has crashed! Don't panic - he's okay. Still another 19 stages to go. Plenty more time for him to to come off again.
Main Course
Not being sure of the way home we followed Ivan. Stupid really as he took us through Nether Stowey and back to the main road we had just left. R2 was feeling homesick and was powering towards Hinckley Point ready for another days work. Good news was we all sat behind on the run to Cannington and bagged a load of good times on Strava. After Ade had departed in favour of motorised transport home we continued to Wemdon and through Bridger. The pre-arranged split still confused some riders and Tracy, Malcolm and possibly Wayne all followed Jeannie's magical mystery tour out towards the A39 rather than up the A38. Malcolm quickly aborted and returned to the A38 while the rest of us continued towards Woolavington for a second time.
Over Mudgely and into Wedmore where the summer fayre was in full swing causing the road to be closed. Tracy picked up a nice china tea set on the way through while I picked up a bargain concrete statue for the garden. After refuelling at the village shop we pressed on to Cheddar. Neil was adamant he was going to go up Shipham Hill. The only issue was whether or not he could persuade anyone else to go with him. Only an idiot would do that with 70 miles in their legs! I followed Neil up Shipham Hill and down through Winscombe to Sandford. The wind was picking up and the last few miles were hard going. I made a mental note to practice more of this kind of riding at home by placing my turbo trainer in front of the fan over with the door open and turned up to maximum.
Dessert
After Neil departed I went on alone with only a couple of miles to do. Having negotiated gas works roundabout a van passed me with the passenger shouting: "You're going to f'ing die if you ride like that!". I replied in similar vein. Turns out he lives two doors away from me and we met again a few minutes later as he was getting out of his van and I was returning home. For some reason he objected to me having a go at him and got his mate who was actually driving the van to come and join in. After a little tete a tete we parted company and went our respective ways. It felt a bit like having a disagreement with the missus and then sitting on the sofa next to her.
Anyhow. Chicken Balls. Well done Steve for securing a KOM on a segment the title of which had something to do with keeping your chicken balls warm. They certainly won't go cold as a certain you know who is bound to want to take it back off him. Afterall it's not nice having your balls pinched.
OJC: 2?, KCF: 8/10, TTCR: 9/10.